“You slip?”
“Musta. All those people.”
“Did you see anyone? Did anyone say anything to you?”
“Can’t remember. Feel weird, out of myself.”
His skin was whiter than the sheets that covered him, so that the bruises and scrapes seemed to jump out—and slapped straight into her guilt.
Still, she pressed. “You’d been shopping. You bought a tree.”
“We had the tree. Cheer ourselves up some. What happened to the tree?” His eyes rolled, then refocused on her. “Is this really happening? Wish I was home. Just wish I was home. Where’s Zana?”
Useless now, Eve decided. She was wasting her time and his energy. “I’ll get her.”
Eve stepped out. Zana stood in the corridor, wringing her hands. “Can I go in? Please. I’m not going to upset him. I’ve got myself settled down. I just want to see him.”
“Yeah, go on in.”
Zana straightened her shoulders, put a smile on her face. Eve watched her go in, heard her say, in cheerful tones, “Why, just look at you! You got some way of getting out of buying me a hat.”
While she waited, she tried the lab. Bitched when she was informed she couldn’t have what she wanted until the twenty-sixth. Apparently Christmas overrode even her wrath.
She might not be able to make a dent there, but Central was another matter. From there, she ordered up uniforms in rotation to stick with Zana at the hotel, with Bobby at the hospital, twenty-four hours.
“Yes,” she snapped. “That includes Christmas.”
Irritated, she tagged Roarke. “I’m going to be late.”
“Aren’t you cheerful. What are you doing in the hospital?”
“It’s not me. Fill you in later. Things have just gone to shit, so I have to shovel it clear before I clock out.”
“I have a considerable amount to clear myself in order to take time off. Why don’t I meet you somewhere for dinner? Get back to me when you’ve made a path.”
“Yeah, okay. Maybe.” She glanced over as Zana came out. “Gotta go. Later.”
“He’s tired,” Zana said, “but he was joking with me. Said how he was off soy dogs for life. Thanks for staying. It helped to have somebody here I know.”
“I’ll take you back to the hotel.”
“Maybe I could stay with Bobby. I could sleep in the chair by his bed.”
“You’ll both do better if you’re rested. I’ll have a black-and-white bring you back in the morning.”
“I could take a cab.”
“Let’s take precautions now. Just to be on the safe side. I’ll put a cop back on the hotel.”
“Why?”
“Just a precaution.”
Zana’s hand shot out, gripped Eve’s arm. “You think somebody hurt Bobby? You think this was deliberate?”
Her voice rose several octaves on the question, and her fingers dug through to skin.
“There’s nothing to substantiate that. I’d just rather be cautious. You need to pick up anything for back at the hotel, we’ll get it on the way.”
“He slipped. He just slipped, that’s all,” Zana said definitively. “You’re just being cautious. You’re just taking care of us.”
“That’s right.”
“Could we see if they have a store, like a gift shop here? I could get Bobby some flowers. Maybe they even have a little tree. We bought one today, but I think it got smashed.”
“Sure, no problem.”
She fought back impatience, went downstairs, into the gift shop. Waited, wandered, while Zana appeared to agonize over the right flowers, and the display of scrawny tabletop trees.
Then there was the matter of a gift card, which meant more agonizing.
It took thirty minutes to accomplish what Eve figured she could have done in thirty seconds. But there was color back in Zana’s cheeks as she was assured the flowers and tree would be delivered upstairs within the hour.
“He’ll like seeing them when he wakes up,” Zana said as they walked outside. With the wind biting, she buttoned her stained coat. “You don’t think the flowers are too fussy? Too female? It’s so hard to pick out flowers for a man.”
What the hell did she know about it? “He’ll like them.”
“Gosh, it’s cold. And it’s snowing again.” Zana paused to look up at the sky. “Maybe we’ll have a white Christmas. That’d be something. It hardly ever snows where we are in Texas, and if it does, it usually melts before you can blink. First time I saw snow, I didn’t know what to think. How about you?”
“It was a long time ago.” Outside the window in another nasty little hotel room. Chicago, maybe. “I don’t remember.”
“I remember making a snowball, and how cold it was on my hands.” Zana looked down at them, then tucked them in her pockets out of the chill. “And when you looked outside in the morning, if it had snowed at night, everything looked so white and clean.”
She waited by the car while Eve unlocked the doors. “You know how your stomach would get all tied up with excitement, because maybe there’d be no school that day?”
“Not really.”
“I’m just babbling, don’t mind me. Happens when I’m nervous. I guess you’re all ready for Christmas.”
“Mostly.” Eve maneuvered into traffic, resigned herself to small talk.
“Bobby wanted to have his mama’s memorial before the end of the year.” As if she couldn’t keep her hands still, Zana twisted the top button of her coat. “I don’t know if we can do that, now that he’s hurt. He thought—we thought—it’d be good to do it before. So we’d start off the new year without all that sorrow. Are we going to be able to go home soon?”
Couldn’t keep them, Eve thought. Could stall, but couldn’t reasonably demand they stay in New York once Bobby was cleared for travel. “We’ll see what the doctors say.”
“I don’t think we’ll ever come back here.” Zana looked out the side window. “Too much has happened. Too many bad memories. I guess I’ll probably never see you again either, after we go.”
She was silent a moment. “If you find out who killed Mama Tru, will Bobby have to come back?”
“I’d say that depends.”
Eve went into the hotel, up to the room to satisfy herself nothing had been disturbed. She asked for and received a copy of lobby security, posted her man, and escaped.
She went back to Central and found two gaily wrapped boxes on her desk. A glance at the cards told her they were from Peabody and Mc-Nab. One for her, one for Roarke.
Unable to drum up enough Christmas spirit to open hers, she set them aside to work. She wrote her report, read Peabody’s, and signed off on it.
For the next half hour, she sat in the relative quiet, studied her murder board, her notes, and let it all circle.
Before she left, she hung the prism Mira had given her.
Maybe it would help.
She left it shimmering dully against the dark window as she pulled out her ‘link, tucked the presents under her arm, and left the office. “I’m clear.”
“What are you hungry for?” Roarke asked her.
“That’s a loaded question.” She held up a hand, acknowledging Baxter, and stopped. “Let’s keep it simple.”
“Just as I thought. Sophia’s,” he told her, and rattled off an address. “Thirty minutes.”
“That’ll work. If you get there first, order a really, really big bottle of wine. Big. Pour me a tumbler full.”
“Should be an interesting evening. I’ll see you soon, Lieutenant.”
She pocketed her ‘link, turned to Baxter.
“Don’t suppose I could tag along, share that really, really big bottle.”
“I’m not sharing.”
“In that case, can I have a minute? Private?”
“All right.” She walked back to her office, called for lights. “I’ll spring for coffee if you want it, but that’s my best offer.”
“I’ll take it.” He went to the AutoChef himself. He was still wearing his soft clothes, Eve noted. Light gray sweater, dark gray pants. He’d gotten some blood—Bobby’s blood, she imagined—on the pants.